


Proximity

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Fraternization, Homophobia, M/M, Queer!Mitaka, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Unsafe Sex, gay!Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: For Day 7 of Mitaka Week. Theme: Free Day.A segment of a longer WIP. Key background information: homosexuality is criminalised in the First Order. Although it's not mentioned here, Armitage Hux has a marriage of convenience with a woman who allows him to pursue his interests as long as he tries to keep it from ruining his career.





	Proximity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deadsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadsy/gifts), [ktula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktula/gifts).



> So the POVs are a mess but this truly is a rough draft.

Ensign Dopheld Mitaka stares down his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and concludes that he is mostly drunk. From a sideways glance at his drinking companion, he can’t pinpoint Hux’s level of inebriation. But the captain’s hair has come loose and is starting to fall across his forehead in a way that gives Mitaka some difficulty looking away.  _How did I get myself into this mess?_ he wonders.  
        “Let’s get out of here,” Hux suggests. “Find someplace quieter. Where I can think.”  
        Even though he nods and pushes his empty glass across the counter, Dopheld wonders if this is a good idea. In a quieter environment, Hux will probably discover exactly how drunk his adjutant has already become. _He’ll probably make me drink a glass of water and send me off to bed. Alone._  
        It doesn’t even take that long. They make it to the first corner when Dopheld takes hold of Hux’s jacket sleeve between thumb and forefinger and directs him to turn down the alleyway. Yes, he is most certainly drunk.  
        “Yes?” the redhead asks, stopping to peer down at the ensign.  
        He almost wimps out then and there, but the alcohol is keeping his anxiety at bay for the moment. Because if he’s read the man wrong, this could easily be the end of a promising career. Instead of backing off, though, he reaches up, grabs Hux by the lapels, and pulls him down for a kiss. The captain’s eyes exhibit surprise for the briefest of moments before their lips meet and instincts take over. Dopheld can taste the whiskey on Hux’s breath, particularly once the redhead’s tongue slips inside in his mouth.  
        The captain takes Mitaka by the waist and moves him around, back against the nearest wall. Palms flat above Dopheld’s head, Hux breaks off the kiss and looks at him. “I had no idea,” he says softly.  
        “I couldn’t exactly shout about it on duty, could I?” In fact, he’s been extremely careful; he’d swear that he hasn’t dropped a single hint. Maybe a few admiring glances here and there, but he has kept them short so they could easily be taken as expressions of professional respect.  
        “But…” Hux shakes his head in disbelief. “How long?”  
        Mitaka knows exactly what the captain is asking: _How long have you wanted this?_ And he’s too drunk to lie. Not that he’s good at deception when sober, but experience has taught him to sidestep questions he isn’t willing to answer truthfully. “Since I met you.”  
        “Fuck. I should’ve noticed. I’ve been bloody oblivious. I just didn’t let myself imagine…” He leans in and just presses his body against Mitaka’s, thinking about how to make up for lost time. The ensign offers a wordless suggestion by cupping Hux’s crotch and giving it a brief squeeze. The touch sets off a light shudder, so Mitaka goes for his superior’s belt buckle.  
        “Here?” Hux asks in a hoarse whisper, glancing right and left to survey the alley.  
        “We can hardly go back to base for this.”  
        “I know. But…” The rest of his objection vanishes as Dopheld simultaneously reaches into Hux’s trousers and sinks to his knees. “Oh.” Before he can attempt to form a more coherent thought, Mitaka’s mouth is on him. And he’s tilting his hips forward to meet the wet heat waiting for him, and maybe it’s too much too soon, but Dopheld doesn’t gag. Instead he moans and opens his own flies. Hux hisses, “Yes. Wank yourself off.” He brings one hand down to tousle the ensign’s hair. “There’s a good boy.”  
        Mitaka pulls off to catch his breath, staring up at Hux with undisguised thrill in his eyes. Receiving praise is his particular kink, and the captain just inadvertently fed into it.  
        Hux sighs in response to that expression. “Maker, but I’d love to fuck you.”  
        The ensign nods, Hux’s dick still filling his mouth, tipping into his throat. _Yes. Yes. Now._  
        “I haven’t any supplies.”  
        Dopheld pulls off, shakes his head emphatically, and his words spill in an insistent patter. “Doesn’t matter. Screenings. I’m clean, you’re clean.” He stands up and lets his trousers and briefs fall to his ankles. “I want to feel you anyway.”  
        Hux runs a hand through his hair and instantly makes up his mind. “Then turn around.” As Dopheld moves, their erections brush lightly against one another, and Hux just knows he won’t regret this. Maybe it’ll come back to bite him professionally, and in that case he’ll certainly be pissed off. But he won’t want to take this back. Perhaps it’s only a drunken fumble in a back alley, but it feels like the beginning of something.  
        Putting two fingers up to Dopheld’s mouth, he gulps hard as the ensign sucks at them, remembering the feel of those lips clamped around his dick. Then he pops them out and brings the hand between Dopheld’s cheeks.  
        “Take off your shirt. I want to see your back.” Hux has a thing for men’s backs, the curve of a bare spine, the play of shadows across the sharp lines of shoulder blades.  
        “Don’t take too long getting me ready,” his adjutant demands as he opens his shirt and tosses it to the ground to obey the order. Hux circles his target, presses at it with a thumb, and Dopheld whimpers. “Please,” he cries, voice needy and broken. The captain spreads him open as best he can with his other hand and spears him with his wet index finger. Mitaka’s legs shake.  
        Hux leans in to speak in his ear. “Fuck. You want this very badly, don’t you?”  
        “Yes, sir.”  
        “Call me Hux.”  
        Dopheld’s voice is feeble as he corrects himself. “Yes, Hux.”  
        “You want to know what I’m about to do to you?” Mitaka nods fervently at the wall. “I’m going to work you open for me. Then I’m going to ram myself inside. Take you with everything I’ve got. Right here in this filthy alley.”  
        “Oh gods. Gods, yes.”  
        “Brace yourself against the wall. It’s going to have to be hard and fast.” He has two fingers thrusting now. “But this part of town is loud. So you can shout if you want. I’d like to hear that.” Mitaka’s already panting, rocking back against his hand. The lubrication from his saliva is fading, the friction from Hux’s fingers beginning to sting, but he’s drunk on alcohol and desire and doesn’t care. But then the hand withdraws gradually, even though Mitaka pushes back to follow it, instinctively trying to keep him inside. Hux stops him with a firm hand on his lower back. “Are you ready for me now?”  
        Another desperate nod. Hux spits into his palm and works it over his dick. Mitaka shivers as he listens to this. But then he freezes while Hux lines up and presses the head inside. He tries to remember to breathe, sucks in air in a thirsty gasp. “More,” he insists, not caring whether he’s truly ready.  
        Hux watches the way the low light from the distant streetlamps plays off Mitaka’s spine, admires the shudder that runs down it when he slides in deeper. All the way now, and he pauses. He shouldn’t waste time like this; although alone for the moment, they’re still in public. Of course, any passer-by is unlikely to clock them as First Order officers (no uniforms, no insignia), but if they’re booked for indecent exposure… He realizes that Dopheld is speaking. Correction: begging.  
        “Fuck me, Hux. Fuck me now.”  
        And how could he deny this sweet man? Especially when it’s precisely what he wants as well? Placing his hands around Dopheld’s slim waist, he snaps his hips forward. He doesn’t mean to say anything at all right now, but he does. “Oh hell, it’s been too long.” It’s self-pitying and celebratory all at once.  
        “Good?” Dopheld’s rolling his hips right along with Hux’s thrusts. He knows what he’s doing and he has to know it’s good.  
        “Fantastic,” Hux groans.  
        “Harder?” the ensign suggests.  
        Hux remembers they can’t take forever, as much as he might like to. In recognition of this, he quickens his pace. “Is this satisfactory?” Mitaka just moans his name. “When was the last time you did this?”  
        Mitaka tries to think back, but focusing is difficult. “A year?” He shakes his head, not wanting to spend time recalling anyone else. “I don’t know. It wasn’t nearly this good.” He makes a low strangled noise in the back of his throat as Hux’s balls slap up against his.  
        The captain hisses in satisfaction, feeling his climax build somewhere in the pit of his gut. “Want to come with me, Phel?”  
        A nickname. A sign of… affection? Intimacy, certainly, if only momentary. “Yes. Please.”  
        “You don’t need to beg. I want you to get off. Hard.”  
        “I will,” Dopheld promises. A gasp escapes his lips when the captain takes a firm hold of him. His palm is wet, he must have licked it, and now he’s thumbing Mitaka’s precome across the tip.  
        Hux speaks into Dopheld’s ear. “You’ve a nice dick. Next time I want it in me.”  
        Those words— _Next time_ —have Mitaka moaning wildly. “So close. Hux.” And all his filthy thoughts come tumbling out of his mouth. “Fuck me deep. I need it.” He’s almost shouting, his voice raw.  
        “What do you need, Phel? Tell me.”  
        “Fill me up, I _have_ to feel your come in me.”  
        Even though this is what he always wants when he tops, Hux has learned not to expect it. So Dopheld Mitaka’s demand goes straight to his head… and balls. His hand jerks the ensign’s cock roughly as he starts losing fine motor coordination. “Oh, fuck. Dopheld.” He’s about to ask Mitaka to say his own name, but his balls draw up and begin to empty.  
        “Hux…” Dopheld whines, the exact word the captain wants to hear. “Gods. Thank you, Hux. Yes. Hux!” And he’s coming into the captain’s hand and on his own stomach, Hux wringing every last drop of out him. They both still, panting in the deserted alleyway, sounds of the city echoing around them.  
        Slowly, Hux pulls out as he softens, and turns Mitaka around to face him. Lifting his hand to his face, he licks his palm clean. Dopheld moans softly at the sight, then crushes his lips against the captain’s. Now that they’re coming down, they notice how much the air has cooled, and scramble to pull their trousers back up. Mitaka fishes his shirt up from where he dropped it, grimacing at the unidentifiable stains it’s picked up in its short tenure on the ground.  
        As they make their way back to the main street, Hux places a hand at the small of Mitaka’s back. The junior officer leans into him. No matter. Anyone would guess he’s just guiding a drunk colleague back to base, he tells himself as he lights a cigarette. Breathing in nicotine, exhaling satisfaction.

 

Back on the _Indomitable_ , Mitaka shies away from Hux for a few day cycles. Obviously they have to interact a great deal during their shifts, but his reports are succinct and he avoids anything that could be construed as lingering. He doesn’t want to come off as desperate— _thirsty_ , they’d called it back at Arkanis. (Called him.) Dopheld Mitaka is no stranger to the jibes so commonly used to describe bisexuals: indiscriminate, indecisive, slutty.  
        But he also doesn’t want to give Hux the impression that what occurred on Salient I had only been an effect of acute ethanol intoxication. That next morning on base he’d woken up with a headache, for sure, but also an insistent erection. Each time he’s gotten himself off since then, he’s pictured the redhead, replayed that night, imagined others.  
        On the third day aboard, Hux and Mitaka leave a strategy meeting together.  
        “I’d like a word with you, Ensign.”  
        Mitaka nods. There’s nothing unusual about this. What is different is the fact that Hux leads him down to Engineering, then heads off down a minor maintenance corridor. Stopping in front of a door marked ENG-03-1B, the captain finally turns to look at him. His eyes narrow, then he sighs almost imperceptibly. After a wave of his passkey, they’re stepping through the doorway.  
        The lights flicker on just a beat too slowly, just a little too dimly. This is obviously not a well-frequented area of the ship; it’s what Engineering would call a Level Four Maintenance Priority. As in a Not-At-All Priority.  
        The door slides shut with a whir, and Hux makes an agonizingly slow about-face to turn to Mitaka. “I thought we should speak alone about what happened.”  
        The ensign gives him a faint, nervous smile. This is where he learns whether Hux has decided to be practical, or to go forward.  
        “Do you think—would you like—perhaps?” The redhead frowns at himself, huffs, and runs gloved fingers through his hair. “Shit,” he says to the toes of his boots.  
        “Yes,” Mitaka breathes, stepping as close to Hux as he can without touching the other man. “Of course.”  
        Hux’s eyes are bright, too bright, and his gaze flickers up to the ceiling. He blinks slowly. Mitaka thinks the man might be warding off relieved tears. So he takes another step in and their tunics brush together. That’s all it takes for the captain to fold his arms around the ensign’s waist and pull him close. “Thank the fucking Maker,” Hux whispers. He tilts Mitaka’s chin up with the tip of a graceful finger and leans down for a kiss.  
        It’s different this time. They don’t reek of alcohol and sweat. The only scents in the small room are starched clothing, the faint hint of shaving cream and pomade, and the synthetic odour of background electronics. Hux tastes clean and composed, but his hands tremble at Mitaka’s back and his lips are hesitant.  
        Mitaka understands the man’s concern, but he’s too relieved to feel his own nerves. Instead he presses his mouth against his superior’s, opens his own lips, and darts his tongue out.  
        Hux melts. He brings one palm up to caress Dopheld’s cheek, realises his gloves are in the way, and pulls them off hurriedly. Jamming them in the pockets of his coat, he returns his hands to Mitaka’s body. Stepping back from the kiss, he knits his brows in thought.  
        “We shouldn’t be away too long. But you gave me so much on Salient. I’d like to give a bit back.”  
        Mitaka isn’t certain what the man is offering, but he nods silently. When Hux lays his coat, inner lining facing the floor, kneels onto it, and reaches for the ensign’s belt, Dopheld swallows dryly. “Hux—” he starts, unsure of what else he’s going to say after that.  
        “Be quiet,” he orders, then clarifies, “And by that I mean, don’t argue.” He pries the buckle open swiftly (of course he does, all their belt buckles are the same), removes it from its loops, and places it on the floor beside him. Then his hands are at Mitaka’s flies, pulling down his trousers and briefs in a single tug. Dopheld’s semi-erection wags loosely in the air, but it doesn’t have time to bounce around uselessly because Hux’s hand and lips are on it immediately.  
        It’s so good and unexpected that Dopheld finds himself leaning back against the wall for support. The last man he’d been with had no real clue what to do with a foreskin, but thankfully Hux understands. He works with it, lightly tongues below it, folds it back with his lips to suckle gently at the glans beneath. “Maker,” Dopheld moans softly, hands forming useless fists at his sides.  
        Hux notices this and sits back to comment. He keeps his hand at the root of Dopheld’s cock, now fully hard. “You can put your hands on my head, if you’d like.”  
        Once the captain returns to his task, Dopheld brushes his fingertips through Hux’s hair. It’s softer than it looks, even with the product holding it in place. And so very pretty. He’s never been with a natural redhead, of any gender.  
        The captain responds to the touch viscerally, moaning against Mitaka. The sound pulls beads of precome out of the ensign. “Oh. Oh, goddammit.” And this encourages Hux to take him deeper. When the head brushes the back of Hux’s mouth, Dopheld can’t keep from rutting against his face. Hux’s eyes flutter open and he looks up with such pure gratitude that Mitaka hoarsely asks, “May I fuck your throat?” It’s something he’s never truly done, not from this end, but he suspects Hux will enjoy it.  
        The answering nod has his dick rubbing against the roof of Hux’s mouth. Holding the captain by the back of the head, Mitaka thrusts past the tongue, panting as he goes. “Hux. Oh. You’re so beautiful. Feel so damn good. I’m going to—yes.” He spills, trembling, his breaths ragged. Then he lets go and slumps back against the wall. Composing himself a little, he looks down at Hux, still licking his swollen lips. “What do you want?” he asks breathily.  
        “I want to see you tonight. Do you have plans?”  
        Dopheld chuckles. He never has plans. And even if he did, he’d cancel them for the promise of Hux. “No.”  
        “Come to my quarters?”  
        “Is that safe?”  
        Hux moves in closer and kisses Mitaka’s belly. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you if it comes to that.” Glancing up, he sees the concern in the ensign’s eyes, knows he’s wondering, _But who will protect you?_ “I can take care of myself, Ensign.”  
        Mitaka gives him a tiny smirk. “How about now? Want me to take care of you?”  
        Hux thinks about waiting until this evening. But postponing any satisfaction at all will make the five remaining hours of his shift nearly impossible to survive. He’ll be hard on and off until he leaves the bridge for the day. And although his long tunic will cover the evidence—he’s grateful for the foresight put into designing their uniforms—the whole situation would be supremely uncomfortable. In the end, he nods. “Yes.”  
        “How can I help?” Dopheld is expecting Hux to ask to be blown in turn, or at least for a hand job. But the captain surprises him.  
        “Show me your arse. I want to come on it.”  
        Luckily Mitaka hasn’t yet pulled his pants back up. So he shuffles over to a waist-high storage bin and leans forward over it.  
        “Oh Maker. It’s even prettier in this light.” Hux cups a cheek in one hand and squeezes it. “Spread your legs for me, Phel.”  
        That name again.  
        “Use your hands. Show me that sweet little hole.” And he leans down and licks between Dopheld’s cheeks. Then he straightens up, reaches into his trousers, and jerks himself to the sight of his saliva glistening on Mitaka’s pink pucker. “Such a pretty boy,” he murmurs. “Do you top at all?”  
        “Sometimes.” Maybe one out of every four times he does. It depends on his partner.  
        “Good. Tonight I’d like you to fuck me.”  
        Dopheld remembers this plan from earlier, but he’d chalked it down to Hux being out of his mind with lust and alcohol. The captain just didn’t seem the type to appreciate receiving.  
        “Are you surprised?”  
        “Yes,” Mitaka admits. He’s young—twenty three in standard years—but he’s been told plenty of things by men who were inside him at the time. Things that weren’t exactly (or at all) true. He’s learned that in such moments, _I love you_ means _I love fucking you_. But not all the lies have been quite that significant.  
        _—I want to see you again. (No further contact.)_  
_—You can have me next time. (Once again, Dopheld on hands and knees, bracing himself to be buggered.)_  
_—Hell with them all, I’ll leave her for you. (He marries her.)_  
        Mitaka sighs, trying to think only of Hux now. The captain helps him with this by placing the pad of a thumb against him, right where it matters. Then he starts talking, his obscene patter broken up by groans. “Fuck. Phel. Can hardly wait. To have you buried in me. Take me the way I took you. Except we’ll have all fucking night.” Then he’s sliding back and forth between Mitaka’s cheeks. “Phel,” he cries out, continuing to rub himself against the ensign’s skin while he spurts onto it. Breathing heavily, he takes a step back. Then his mouth is on Mitaka’s lower back, cleaning his mess.  
        Dopheld’s breath hitches in his throat. “Leave some,” he insists. Hux’s tongue stills. “I want to feel it on me.”  
        “I can do better than that,” Hux remarks, then coats the tip of his finger with his come. Dopheld has no idea what he’s about to do until the finger is pressing into him, pushing the ejaculate inside.  
        “Hux,” he moans happily.  
        The redhead repeats this until there’s none left on Dopheld’s skin. Then he gives the ensign a swift smack to one cheek. “Time to get going.” They pull their uniforms back on in companionable silence. Dopheld feels a bit dizzy and he doesn’t dare look Hux in the face; he thinks if he does he’s likely to start laughing. But then the captain turns to him, asks, “How do I look?”  
        “Like you just swallowed my come and jerked off onto my ass,” Mitaka says unhelpfully. This earns him another swat to the seat of his pants. Hux has to wait to open the door for the both of them to stop chuckling.  
        “So, when are you off duty tonight?” Hux asks casually.  
        Mitaka stops dead to give him a pointed stare.  
        “Sorry, I seem to have lost my head. You’re my adjutant. Our schedules are synchronized.”  
        “Holy hell, Captain. Get your shit together.”  
        Hux suspects he may have to spank Mitaka at some point.


End file.
